


Luce Ex Noctem

by snarkydarkling



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, all the alarkling smut in one place, should i be worried about how many of these explicit stories i have now?, will more than likely contain kink because i have no self control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:05:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkydarkling/pseuds/snarkydarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Alarkling one-shots and drabbles. Rated anywhere from Teen to Explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Alina Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the winter fete, the Darkling visits Alina in her room before Baghra gets the chance to warn her. He proves highly skilled at removing women's shoes.  
> Rating: M  
> Type: One-Shot

Her heels were tangled monstrosities whose straps she couldn’t undo. She cursed Genya for even suggesting them. But more than that, she cursed Mal.

He’d called her a ‘ _cosseted little princess_ ’. He’d sneered at her clothes, her jewels, her shameful desires. Like he had any right to judge. How many girls had Mal been with? Had she ever berated him for it? And now that she was finally fitting in, finally finding a place for herself, he had to barge in and throw it all in her face. As if finding some happiness was something she should be ashamed of.

As Alina sat at the edge of her bed, pulling at the straps of her heels in vain, hot, angry tears streaked her face. Tonight, she should have been celebrating. She’d finally proved herself with her show at the winter fete. They’d spotted Morozova’s stag. And the Darkling had been very direct about how he felt about her.

Instead, she’d returned to her rooms, embarrassed and upset. She ran a hand over the scar on her palm, wishing she could go back to a simpler time when she and Mal had been children; when the things that passed between them had been easy. When they’d been best friends instead of two people who were rapidly becoming strangers.

A gentle knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. What if it was the Darkling? She quickly wiped away at her tears and hoped she didn’t look like she’d been crying.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened slowly and a tall figure entered, closing the door gently behind him. Seeing the Darkling still surprised Alina sometimes. She took in his full height, his dark tousled hair, the way the black _kefta_ clung to him like a cloak made of night and stars. With a blush, she realized she was the reason his hair was so disheveled. She’d ran her fingers through it when they’d been kissing earlier. Had anyone noticed?

“Have I upset you?” he said, drawing nearer to the bed. “Would you rather wish me gone?”

She nearly gave a hysterical laugh at that. So it was obvious she’d been crying. She shook her head.

“No...I...I just ran into an old friend, that’s all.”

She looked away and began fidgeting with her straps again.

“The tracker?” he asked, after a long pause.

“Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “He wasn’t very happy to see me.”

“Let me.”

Alina watched in amazement as the Darkling kneeled before her, his deft hands slowly loosening the tangled knots of her heels. It was strange to see such a powerful man in such a submissive pose before her. His fingertips brushed feather-light against her ankles and she suppressed the shiver that was running down her spine at the sensation.

“Have you much practice untying women’s shoes?”

His quartz eyes flashed up to her and he gave a mischievous smirk that suggested he had practice with a lot of things. Still, the sight of his face looking up from the tops of her knees was driving her wild. She wanted to forget all about Mal and shove his face between her legs.

With the straps of one shoe successfully untangled, he gently pulled her foot free, his hands coiled around her bare ankle. The slit that ran up the side of her skirts opened slightly, exposing her leg. His eyes raked over her, hungry and possessive. Oh, he wanted her all right.

“I thought you said that wanting makes us weak,” she said casually, her fingers gently caressing his hair.

One of his hands continued to make short work of her other shoe, while the other began roaming up the back of her calf, over her knees, up her thighs…

“Only if you want what you can’t have,” he murmured, his voice smooth and silky. “Though I suspect I might have my way after all.”

His palm was warm against her bare skin, his fingers gently drawing circles against the sensitive inner thigh. She was growing so deliciously wet, he was sure to feel it if his hand wandered any further. But he seemed satisfied to tease her at this excruciating pace.

At last, her other foot was free and he carelessly tossed the heel away. Before she could even think, he gripped the back of her neck and bent her down for a hard kiss, his lips punishing but his tongue playful. He trailed his kisses down her jaw, settling at last to nip at her throat. She was making unintelligible sounds, her voice reduced to breathy sighs and greedy gasps. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing him as close as she dared, dragging her fingers through his hair, squeezing the hard muscles in his neck and shoulders.

The pad of his thumb swiped slowly against her clit, drawing an involuntary moan from her lips. He stilled, his thumb pressing right where she needed it most.

“Soon, Alina, you’ll want for nothing,” he murmured. “You’ll have the stag, you’ll have the Second Army, you’ll have pilgrims come to adore you, and you’ll have all of Ravka too.”

“I don’t want any of those things,” she said, a touch impatient. “I just want you inside me.”

That mischievous smirk crept to his lips again.

“Then you shall have that too,” he whispered.


	2. Does This Excite You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an anonymous prompt request: AU where Alarkling goes on a roller coaster ride.   
> Rating: T  
> Type: Drabble

“Is this seat taken?” **  
**

Alina jerked her head up to see the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Tousled black hair, sharp grey eyes, and a fitted white t-shirt that showed off some impressive muscles. It took her a moment to realize she was staring before she snapped out from under his spell.

“No, it’s all yours.”

He seated himself beside her wordlessly and pulled on the over-the-shoulder restraints. Alina wanted desperately to tell Genya about the hot stranger she was currently brushing shoulders with but the girl was busy gossiping with Zoya in the car in front of them.

She opted for the next best thing and pulled out her phone, angling it slightly so he couldn’t see and texted Genya: _FYI, sitting next to the sexiest man alive. Check him out when the ride is over!!!_

“You should put that in a safe place,” said Aleksander suddenly, startling her. “Wouldn’t want to lose it when the ride starts.”

Alina noticed he was smirking a little, as if he knew _exactly_ what she’d been texting. She shoved her phone deep into her pockets and said, “Oh, yes, you’re right. I was just…texting a friend about how excited I was.”

Well, _that_ came out wrong. Especially coupled with what she’d been texting earlier. His quartz eyes peered down at her, questioningly, while that infuriating smirk only rode higher.

“Does this excite you?”

Alina wanted nothing more than to pull off her restraints and jump headfirst into the abyss below. She could feel herself turning red as she forced a laugh.

“Oh, I love roller coasters,” she bluffed. “They’re very exciting. Aren’t you excited? About the ride, I mean?”

“Definitely. I love it when you get wet at the end.”

_Saints_ , he was surely toying with her.

Alina was spared suddenly when the car sprang to life and sent them careening down the track. She grabbed Aleksander’s hand instinctively and he stilled completely, surprised by the gesture. 

A split second later, he squeezed back.


	3. An Apt Pupil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Smutty R&R Alarkling sex with Alina being dominant ;)  
> Rating: E  
> Type: One-Shot

“Let me,” he murmured, his breath warm against her throat.

She let him guide her hands around his waist as she felt the heat of his tongue lazily laying claim to the tender spot above her collar. She felt the flex of hard muscle beneath his skin, the way his closeness sent her into a familiar, euphoric world where nothing mattered except satisfying the growing hunger in her bones.

Somewhat distantly, she could still feel the weight of Nikolai’s emerald ring in her palm back at the Spinning Wheel, even as she ran her fingers up his back. She didn’t have to be standing in the Darkling’s arms. She could go back to her body, forget this ever happened, and return to the safety of the mountaintop. But despite everything, she didn’t want to go.

“It isn’t real,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “Let me.”

With his hardened arms encircled around her, Alina was struck by just how small she was compared to him. Even with him perched at the edge of the table, he was easily a whole head taller than her. She leaned into his chest, brushing her lips against his.

“Aleksander,” she whispered against him.

His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed softly. She smiled, relishing the effect she still had on him. She trailed her kisses along his jaw, pausing by the shell of his ear, as he had once done to her. 

“I will _never_ surrender to you,” she said, gripping him close. “Now now, not ever.”

When she pulled back, his eyes narrowed at her. She could sense a weary sort of anger humming through the connection between them. Anger, and something else---what was it? Pain? Longing? Loneliness? Nothing was ever that straight-forward with the Darkling. His torment seemed to go on in an endless, fathomless fissure. But for the first time, as Alina regarded him, he seemed more human than ever. Vulnerable, like a young man wounded in battle.

She could sense that mask of coldness returning to his features as he began to pull his arms away but she wasn’t finished with him just yet. Not after everything he’d done, not after the way he’d toyed with her, drew her in, seduced her, made her want him, and made her ashamed of it.

She gave him a playful but forceful push and in his shock, he fell backwards on the table, catching himself on his elbows. His mouth set into a grim line as he looked at her, reproachfully.

“Is that how you plan to defeat me?”

Alina snorted, earning her a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, moron.”

With that, she slid onto the table, straddling him with her hips and pressing him down with her palms. She tried to ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the feel of his bare chest, at the sight of the dark trail of hair that disappeared beyond the waist of his breeches.

He grabbed ahold of both her wrists and yanked her forward, a dangerous look in his eyes. She nearly banged her head against him as he forcefully pressed his mouth to hers. There it was again, that sinful tongue sliding over her lips and prying them open. Those rough hands wandering down her nightdress and cupping the flesh of her thighs. That hard bulge in his breeches that was pressing up against her. He was her monster now.

Slowly, she began to roll her hips, drawing a soft groan from his lips. She smiled as she kissed him, her hands lost on his silky hair, curling a single strand around her finger. She felt his hands, eager and greedy, tugging up her nightdress, exploring the bare flesh underneath.

Alina pulled away from him, sitting up. She relished the hungry look in his eyes, the way his tongue ran over his lips to savour the taste of her. He studied her body, breathing hard and waited expectantly. She considered disappearing and leaving him wanting like this but then she would be wanting too.

In one fluid movement, she pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed over her shoulder. No sooner had the fabric hit the floor had Aleksander reached up to cup a breast in each palm, kneading each of her nipples with practiced ease. She threw her head back and moaned, rocking her hips against him again, heat pooling between her thighs with each stroke. He pinched her in response, squeezing each nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Stop playing around,” he said, his voice low and ragged. There was a mocking sort of challenge in his eyes, as if he thought she wouldn’t really do it. As if she’d shy away when it finally came down to it. But she wasn’t prepared to give him that satisfaction.

She scooted down his hips, pausing to undo the buttons, trying not show her inexperience. And where before that would have made her blush or look away, she was determined to follow through. She stilled at the impressive size of him and wet her lips with her tongue, loving the contrast of pale skin against the nest of dark hair. Aleksander was giving her a smug satisfied smile as he fondled her, which Alina tried her best to ignore.

She curled her fingers around his cock, pleased to find it rock hard. She pushed her slick center up against him, rolling her hips a few more times before easing herself onto the tip of his cock. At first, all she registered was a pinching sort of pain at her opening and she grimaced in response. She felt the pad of his thumb roughly circling her clit, murmuring soft words of encouragement. She bit her lip, tempted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, she gripped his muscular chest as she slid down, feeling the whole length of him invade her most private place.

And she loved it. She loved the way his cock pressed up against all sides of her, how foreign yet right it felt, and how deliciously full she was. She loved how wicked it all was, that if her loyal soldiers could see her now, they’d curse her name and abandon her. If anything, that just turned her on even more. She began to ride him gingerly, savouring how it felt to have him pushed in and out of her. His fingernails dug into her hips, spurring her on. He lifted up his hips to meet hers and soon the empty room was echoing with the sound of them smacking into each other. It was all heat and sweat and tongue and skin.

She could tell he was holding back some primal, ancient part of him. She watched his face with glee, torturing him with her slow strokes or pausing halfway to bend down and tantalize him with another kiss. She had never felt more powerful in her life. This man, who’d lived for centuries, ruled Ravka countless times, waged wars, and remade himself was now writhing underneath her, held in her mercy.

“Aleksander,” she cooed again, watching his eyes flutter shut, almost involuntarily.  

With a low groan, she watched him climax, memorizing every twist of pleasure in his usually impassive face. His chest rose and fell, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes squeezed tight, as if he were in prayer.

“Again,” he pleaded.

A bubble of laughter erupted from her. She shook her head at him as his eyes flew open.

“Wanting makes us weak,” she whispered, already beginning to disappear. “You taught me that.”

Before he could reach out to grab her, she was gone.


	4. Make Her Scream (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Darkling makes good on his threat to make Alina scream when Mal fails to find the sea whip ;)  
> Rating: E  
> Type: Two-Shot  
> WARNING: Contains knife play, fear play, references to torture, and dubious consent.

**1.**

“It seems the tracker requires some motivation.”

I stilled beside the Darkling, casting a sidelong glance at him. Three days had passed with no sign of Rusalye and the crew and Grisha alike were growing restless. My worst fears were beginning to materialize: Mal truly had no idea where we were headed and was just stalling for time.

Every day the Darkling made me stand beside him at the prow, while Mal was kept guarded at the other end, instructing the helmsman. We were never permitted to talk. Our only communication was the brief eye contact we maintained when I was finally paraded down the hatch at dusk.

“He’s close,” I bluffed. “It was like this before he found the stag too. He’s doing the best----”

“What he’s doing,” said the Darkling, cold as ice, “is wasting time. You would do well to remember your taste for _otkazats’ya_ do you no favours.”

“So I’m the weak one because my loyalty to him is based on love instead of fear?”

The Darkling peered down at me, his slate eyes shaded in the setting sun. “Do you _love_ him?”

I pressed my lips together. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s always harder when you love them. Watching them die as you remain deathless.”

“Right, because spending time with you is such a pleasure,” I snapped.

Something dark passed across his features and I scolded myself for not holding my tongue. After all, I was not back at the Little Palace. I was being held prisoner on a ship with Mal’s life in my hands.

The Darkling bent down, his lips brushing my ear and sending a traitorous shiver down my spine.

“Careful, Alina,” he murmured. “Your tracker has yet to deliver his promises and I fear I’ve come to the end of our bargain.”

_You’ll know when our deal is up. I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream._

Before I could make another excuse, he firmly took my arm and began steering me across the deck. My heart hammered wildly. Had I finally done it? Had I pissed off the Darkling so badly he was going to hurt Mal? My mind raced ahead, enacting various violent deaths: Sturmhond forcing Mal to walk the plank, Ivan crushing his heart to a bloody pulp, the Darkling wielding the Cut and tearing his torso in two…

When we reached the hatch, the Darkling came to a stop. I looked up to see Mal’s tense face looking back and forth between us, an unvoiced question on his lips. Guards held in his arms in place so he couldn’t run towards me.  

“I told you not to play games, tracker.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Mal snarled. “I just need more time!”

The Darkling was unmoved. The corner of his mouth lifted just a little, enough to reveal he wasn’t in a charitable mood. “Clearly, you lack the incentive to do as you are told. I’ll make her scream all night long, if that’s what it takes.”

With that, he shoved me belowdecks and I went stumbling down the stairs, a whimper escaping my dry lips, but not before I heard him call out: “Make sure he’s brought down for the finale. Our hard-working tracker could do with a show.”

 

**2.**

With guards at our heel every hour, being alone with the Darkling was suddenly intoxicating. I should have been thinking about Mal’s safety or at least wondering after my own. Instead, I watched the man lounging behind the desk before me: the way his dark eyelashes casted shadows under his eyes, the way his usually pale skin was slightly flushed with emotion (anger? arousal? annoyance?), the way his long fingers swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he watched me squirm.

The last time I remembered the Darkling needing a drink was when he’d hunted me down and collared me, as if I were an animal. That’s how I knew he would not be kind, he would not be forgiving.

The shackles on my wrists were pulled up over my head and hung from the low ceiling. My toes just barely grazed the wooden floor. My body was a taut line, waiting to be plucked and the Darkling was taking his sweet time savouring the moment.

His eyes roamed my body and even though I was wearing at least three layers of fabric, I flushed. I knew he was contemplating where to begin, where to hurt me and I should have been scared and I was, but underneath that fear was a strange hunger asking for more, more, _more_. He could cut me, whip me, spank me, choke me, bruise me, bed me and all those possibilities swam in my mind, making me feel heady and warm.

I should’ve been scared and I was. But fear wasn’t the only thing I was feeling.

“I’m wondering,” he said quietly, “why you are here at my mercy when it should be the tracker.”

“And I’m wondering why you won’t just get this over with.”

“Are you so anxious for me to get rough with you?”

I tried to fight the mortification that must have been evident on my face. It was always like this when he spoke. His threats masqueraded as innuendoes or was it the other way around? I swallowed as he set the glass down and circled the table to stand in front of me, our faces mere inches from each other.

“Don’t worry, Alina,” he said as he roughly took hold of my chin and forced me to look up at him. “I’ll make you scream soon enough. The only reason I suffer through your childish impertinence instead of gagging you is so the entire ship will know what I do to you tonight. So they will hear how much you _beg_ for mercy.”

My eyes fluttered closed as I ignored the thrill that went through me. Surely, he must have felt my excitement through the thread that connected us. His hand wandered south, fingering the collar at my throat and a twisted satisfaction graced his features.

I squeezed my thighs together, hoping he’d never discover how wet I was. He turned away from me and busied himself with unrolling a small black bag on the desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out what looked like rows of gleaming silver instruments.

The Darkling pulled out a small knife and turned towards me, watching the fear dance across my face. He held the blade in his deft fingers as if he were a surgeon about to make his first cut and I instinctively tried to back away but my restraints rendered me immobile. I knew he had no qualms about cutting me. Saints, he’d cut my arm within moments of first meeting me. With so many Healers aboard the ship, it would be almost too easy for him to cut me open and heal me over and over again.

He grazed the blade against my cheek, cocking his head to the side. I stayed as still as possible, my breath loud and shallow.

“Please, don’t…”

He ignored me, caressing my skin with the dull end of the knife.

“You can’t imagine how much I have wanted to punish you for what you have done,” he said smoothly. He circled around me while trailing the blade along my face, my jaw, and finally settling by my throat and I whimpered softly in response. “For all the times you resisted, for all the times you selfishly put your puerile attachments before Ravka…”

He was standing directly behind me then, his silky voice a soft whisper in my ear. Somehow, he seemed more dangerous like this. Too sweet, too tender. About to strike without a moment’s notice. Unpredictable.

He yanked my hair back, exposing more of my neck, and pressed the knife to my throat. The blade was ice cold against my flesh but I didn’t dare try to wriggle away, frightened that any tiny movement might slit me open.

“When I finish tonight,” he murmured, slowly dragging the dull knife edge across my sensitive skin, “there will be no more betrayals, no more disappointments. You will at last learn how to please me.”

Even with his knife delicately pressed against me, there was no denying the traitorous response of my body to his words. My breath hitched in my throat as I awaited his next movement. Then, without warning, his knife sliced through my thin shirt, exposing my skin to the cool air of the cabin. The sudden violence of it startled me and I let out a soft moan, struggling in vain to cover myself.

Lazily, he peeled the shredded shirt from my body and let it drop to the floor, raking his eyes over my breasts, a lethal mix of hunger and violence glinting his slate eyes. Slowly, as if he was still considering it, he grazed the blade against my nipple, feather light.

“I could cut you,” he said quietly. “I could make the Healer leave a scar so every time you looked at yourself, you would be remember who you belong to.”

My heart beat even faster and I was terrified to even breathe, lest the rising of my chest brushed up against his blade. I was no longer turned on. I was scared shitless. He studied my reaction as he grazed the knife lower and slowly pressed the flat side to my waist. The cold metal made me shiver.

“I could cut you in so many different ways, so many different places. Use methods that would leave you screaming in agony for hours.”

“Go to hell,” I snapped. I tried to spit right in his face but instead it dribbled comically down my chin.

His eyes lit up with amusement and he gave me a predatory smirk as he watched my pathetic attempt.

“Then again, perhaps it’s not screams of pain your tracker fears...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for part 2 to read all about the dramatic *~climax~* ;)


	5. Make Her Scream (Part 2)

I let out a gasp as he gripped the waist of my breeches and yanked them down to my ankles. He ran his warm palms up the sides of my legs on his way up and I couldn’t help but sigh in response. I hated that he could make my body betray me like this; that he could play me like an instrument of moans and sighs and screams. His eyes roamed my unmarked skin as if I were a blank canvas he would soon mark up with red handprints and fresh bruises.

He flashed me a predatory smile as he tugged at the band of my panties, sending fresh shivers through me. Once more, I was hungry for his touch and he didn’t waste any time in yanking them down roughly and letting my ankles get twisted in the elastic.

His sharp steel gaze swept over me, inspecting every inch as he slowly pulled off his gloves. Each pale finger he pulled free drove me closer to madness. He tossed his gloves to the side and cupped me between my thighs, sinking a finger into my wet entrance. I cried out involuntarily and bit my lip to stop from moaning out more. The Darkling pulled his hand away smoothly and dragged the evidence of my arousal across my flushed cheeks and warm lips.

“Does he make you this wet?”

I gaped at him, stunned. There could only be one person he could be referring to but I was too mortified to answer. I wondered if violent knife torture could really be that bad in comparison to my treacherous heart.

He ran his fingernails over my sides.

“Does he make you this flushed?”

“No,” I whispered, the words out of my lips before I could think the better of them.

“Poor Alina,” he cooed, taking hold of my chin. “Let me show you the difference between myself and the impotent tracker.”

My heart hammered loudly. His eyes glinted with derision and desire, each competing with the other. Part of me wanted to say something to defend Mal, but a greater part of me didn’t care for anything except for what the Darkling would do next.

I watched him turn towards his array of glistening instruments and carefully select something that looked like a long thin leather crop, the type used to whip horses. The air hissed as he swished it in front of me for show. My nipples grew harder at the sight of it and I didn’t even try to hide my excitement anymore. He flourished the crop a few inches away from my sensitive folds, the rushing air tickling my clit and filling me up with anticipation.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs startled me but the room was quickly engulfed in a cloud of darkness. _His_ darkness.  I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust but only a velvety abyss stared back.

I felt the Darkling lips brushing against my ear.

“Tell me where you want it,” he murmured, lightly brushing the end of the crop against my cheek. “Tell me all the places he ignores.”

I subconsciously licked my lips, my mind racing with all the places I wanted his touch but unsure whether or not I’d be able to ask for it.

“The back of my thighs…” I said quietly, my voice sounding breathy and high.

No sooner had the request left my lips, I felt the sting of the crop against my flesh, burning a soft patch of skin below my bottom. More swats followed in quick succession, causing me to cry out. _Saints,_ just when I thought I couldn’t get any more turned on...

“Where else?”

 _Only every other inch of me_ , I wanted to say. Instead, I hesitated, hoping he’d continue and I wouldn’t have to say anything out loud. A sharp yank to my hair hinted otherwise.

“Where else, Alina? Tell me.” I could tell he was getting impatient.

“Between my legs,” I whimpered, feeling the last of my dignity giving away.

Though I couldn’t see him, I could swear the Darkling was smirking. I felt him move away. I waited in the darkness for what seemed like ages before the familiar hiss of air startled me. A sharp ache bloomed over my clit, sending pleasurable waves all through me.

I found myself saying, “ _Oh_.”

I heard him laugh softly. “Did you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like another one?”

“Yes.”

“Then _beg_. Beg for more.”

I knew he was mocking me but I didn’t care. I wanted more. Just his voice---low and threatening---was enough to make me feel light-headed. I tilted my head back, getting pulled under his spell where I wanted nothing more than to be under his command.

“Please...do it again. I--- _Ah_!”

A quick series of sharp slaps followed, bursting through my center in waves of pleasure and pain. I wriggled my thighs together, wanting to follow those waves wherever they led. Hanging there in the dark, I couldn’t see anything. It was just me, my body, and this strangely sinful voice that could make me do and say things I wouldn’t otherwise, taking me further and further into my own dark desires. Every nerve in my body was tingling and my breath sounded so loud to my ears.

I could hear the Darkling moving, circling me, brushing the crop against my skin ever so gently as he made his way around me. Sometimes he caressed me with it, other times he lashed out and I could never guess what he would do next.

“Does your _otkazats’ya_ excite you like this?”

It was almost dizzying to follow his voice.

“No,” I confessed, mentally mapping where the crop could be, where it could strike next.

“Do you dream of him the way you’ve dreamt of me?”

I swallowed. How had he known that? Unless those naughty dreams about the Darkling hadn’t been dreams at all. Unless all those times I’d dreamt of writhing underneath him, of being splayed out on his lap...all those times he’d visited me in my dreams.

The Darkling leaned in, but his voice was directed behind me.

“Did you tell him about your dreams? About how willing you were to give yourself to me? About all the places you let me touch you, kiss you, take you?”

I wasn’t sure if it was humanly possible to blush any harder but my cheeks were inflamed. Guilty as charged. I’d enjoyed every single moment of those nighttime visits, shamefully replaying them in my mind during the waking hours, sometimes even with Mal in the room. Still, I had told myself they had been nothing but meaningless dreams. To know they had been shared in some way both excited and shamed me.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“But you enjoyed them, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“This is like one of those dreams, isn’t it, Alina? How do you want this one to end?”

“With you coming inside me.”

I felt his dark laughter brushing against my ear again. “Look at you. Naked and wanting. Are you Ravka’s saviour? Or are you my wet little saint?”

His hands folded over my wrists, undoing the restraints that held me in place. My aching muscles were momentarily relieved. I felt him pull my arms and secure them behind my back. He half-lifted, half-dragged me across the room and bent me over the desk, face down. He pulled off the tangled mess of fabric at my ankles and nudged my thighs open.

I felt his firm hand splayed across my lower back as if he were coaxing a spooked animal. I raised my hips in response, a tingling shooting all the way through my spine. I heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling, buttons being unfastened, and I bit my lip, anticipation coursing through me and raising goosebumps.

I felt his fingers roughly pushing my cheeks apart as his hard cock prodded at my entrance. Then, without much of a warning, he pushed himself inside me and I screamed at the sudden invasion, feeling myself squeezed around his impressive length. He was practically pressed up against my clit, his hips hard against mine.

He leaned over me, fingers brushing back my hair. I thought perhaps he’d offer some words of encouragement or at least apologize for being so rough. Instead, he said something else entirely.

“Tell me, Alina, is he as big as me?”

I made an unintelligible sound, half mortified, half ecstatic. It occurred to me then (somewhat vaguely as my head was swimming) that the Darkling must have thought I’d been with Mal before. That dark twisted part of me didn’t dare correct him. I wanted him like this---petty, vindictive, and with something to prove. He wanted his ego stroked and I could only happily oblige.

“No,” I whispered. “You’re _so much_ bigger.”

He made a startled yet satisfied sound, like a cat purring in sunlight. I smiled up at him over my shoulder in the dark, my eyes half-lidded with desire.

“ _Good._ ”

With that, he started pounding into me, slamming my thighs into the table painfully. I wanted something to hold onto but my wrists were tied behind my back. He reached forward, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and yanked my head back as he drove into me. There was so much power behind his thrusts, I knew there was no way I’d escape this without at least a few bruises.

I cried out loudly, sure that the whole ship could hear me but I didn’t care. It just felt _so good_ . Better than good. It felt _divine_. My entire world shrunk down the the sensations in my body---my aching legs, the slickness running down my thighs, his fist in my hair, the way my breasts tremored on the table with each violent thrust, and that delicious feeling of being filled over and over again. Every time he slammed into me, every time he accidentally brushed up against my clit, my desire grew and pooled at my center, itching for release.

“Does he make you scream this much?”

“No,” I whimpered, in between cries. “Only you make me scream.”

He paused suddenly and let go of my hair.

“I didn’t ask for your flattery,” he said, so deadpan I nearly laughed.  

He slipped his fingers under my hips and pleasured me until I was a writhing wet mess, crying out on the table. My orgasm bloomed through me like a sunburst, shooting rays of pleasure all through my body. I felt myself squeeze around him as he resumed his thrusting, not bothering to wait for me to finish. It was overwhelming and with the darkness surrounding me, it was like he was taking me to another place entirely.

Once the last of my climax subsided, I felt him pulsating, spreading a warm wetness inside me. I thought I might come again just from the sensation. Instead, he slowed to a stop and we stood there for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, listening to each other’s ragged breathing in the darkness.

Finally, he pulled out and I heard him adjust his _kefta_ again. I wanted to make myself presentable before we went upstairs, before I had to….oh, Saints. _Mal_. I’d completely forgotten about him. I didn’t know where he was but I knew the last thing I wanted was for him to witness me bent over the table as I was, undressed and sinfully wet.

The Darkling withdrew the darkness with a start and a flash of bright lights invaded my senses. I blinked several times before my eyes adjusted to the scene before me.

My heart stopped.

The room hadn’t been darkened at all. The darkness I’d perceived had only been placed over my eyes. Everything we’d done had been as clear as day to anyone who may have wandered belowdecks.

Kneeling on the floor in front of me with his mouth gagged and his eyes full of rage was….Mal.

“I hope you enjoyed the show, tracker.” said the Darkling, as if he were commenting on the weather. He pulled on his dark gloves, completely unfettered. “We can arrange for another if you are still unmotivated.”

 

**3.**

 

Mal didn’t speak to me again. I heard from Genya that he spent most of his time crying in his rooms. I was thankful I didn’t have to face him. I didn’t know what to say or if there was anything at all _to_ say.

My days standing beside the Darkling returned to their usual schedule as if nothing had ever happened between us. Though, occasionally, if he ever caught me staring at him, he would give me a wry smile. As if he was thinking back to the moment when I was spread out beneath him on the table, screaming. I would always blush profusely and look away.

We found Rusalye three days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*/∇＼*）  
> So...this was probably one of the most cringe-worthy things I've written so I sincerely hope none of you died of second-hand embarrassment. I'm like 98% I wrote this just to shit all over Malaria oops ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭
> 
> And now I will go live under a rock for the next few days...*RUNS AWAY IN SHAME*


	6. Baby Bumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pregnant Alina bumps into Aleksander at an office party. Semi-sequel to Blue Cross.  
> Rated: T  
> Type: One-shot

“He’s still staring at you.”

Alina sipped her orange juice and turned slowly, careful not to make it look deliberate. Mal was standing in the far corner, eyes bloodshot and glaring right at her. If he didn’t calm down, he was going to start a scene and Alina didn’t think she could survive being the center of Mal-related drama for the second time.

“Great,” she said darkly. “Why does he even bother showing up to these?”

Genya shrugged. “It’s probably the only way he can see you in person again.”

“As if stalking me on social media and sending me pathetic gifts wasn’t creepy enough.”

Mal had taken the divorce papers hard. Though considering how cozy he’d gotten with Zoya, Alina had no idea why he suddenly felt so possessive of her. She figured it probably had something to do with Aleksander. Well, _that_ , and the baby.

At 15 weeks, she was starting to show the smallest bump. It wasn’t obvious enough that people were asking her but noticeable enough that it couldn’t be mistaken for weight gain. She was already excusing herself from the cocktails, unconsciously pressing her belly.

“Sorry, new diet.”

She hadn’t officially announced it though anyone who paid close attention could probably put two and two together. Genya was ecstatic. Mal was murderous. And Aleksander…

Aleksander was always a mystery.

Alina found herself looking for him in the crowd, hating her new reflex. She spotted him standing out on the front deck talking with Nikolai Lantsov, a glass of cognac in hand. The paper lanterns cast his handsome features in a soft yellow glow. The sight of him still reminded her of their previous “indiscretion” and she felt her cheeks warming.

He caught her staring and before Alina could look away, he motioned with his index finger. _Come here_.

Alina took a swig of her drink, forgetting it was just orange juice, and walked casually towards the men. She passed Mal on the way and though she didn’t look in his direction, she could still feel his gaze like a pair of daggers in her back.

“Alina!” Nikolai greeted, clapping her on the back. “Just the girl we were talking about.”

Alina flushed. “You were talking about me?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed Aleksander smirking.

“You’re our newest hire,” Nikolai clarified. “How are you finding the job?”

“It’s all good. Still getting used to some things, but everyone’s been really nice.”

“Glad to hear it. Listen, I have to go sweet-talk some new investors, but if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

He shot her some finger guns, clearly lacking his usual judgement, and stalked off in the other direction, leaving Alina and Aleksander alone.

She had forgotten how tall he was up close. She had to arch her neck all the way back just to look at him. His grey eyes wandered to the drink in her hand.

“I hope that’s not a screwdriver.”

“It’s just orange juice.”

He nodded, then looked back towards the crowd inside. “Your husband’s glaring at you.”

Alina resisted the urge to turn towards Mal and give him the finger. “Ex-husband. The divorce isn’t final, but...yeah, I moved out.”

“Where are you staying?”

“With Genya for now. Until I find a new place.”

Aleksander looked thoughtful for a moment and Alina began to panic. Was he going to ask her to move in with him? He couldn’t possibly know the baby was his. Even if he’d worked out the math, there was no guarantee he’d know for sure. She had told no one, not even Genya and least of all Mal.

“Why didn’t he move out instead?”

Alina relaxed her shoulders. It had made sense for Mal to move out. After all, he’d been the one that cheated. He’d been the one that had risked it all embezzling funds from work. She could have kicked him out like the dog he was and kept the apartment herself.

“I wanted to start fresh,” Alina admitted. “The apartment would have had too many memories. Besides, I always hated the place. They wouldn’t allow pets and the halls always smelt like boiled cabbages.”

Aleksander didn’t reply. He looked over her shoulder at an approaching figure and Alina flinched internally when she heard his voice.

“Alina, please,” said Mal, grabbing her arm. “How are you going to take care of the baby on your own? You need a man to make sure you’re healthy. Just come back to the apartment, at least until Mal Jr. is born. It’s what’s best for everyone.”

She tried to pry her arm away from his grip and ended up spilling her juice all over her dress. She didn’t care. People were staring at them now but she was too furious to stop now.

“You mean it’s what’s best for you, asshole! Let go of me!”

“Don’t make a scene again,” he said. “You’re hysterical. Just come home with me.”

Alina wanted to smash the glass over his head. _Him_ asking _her_ not to make a scene? The nerve!

A pale hand reached out and grabbed Mal’s wrist, twisting it painfully so he let out a low groan and let go of her arm.

“I believe, Mr. Oretsev,” said Aleksander, “there’s no longer a reason for you to be here. You’re fired.”

 

In the end, Nikolai had to call security to “escort” Mal out. He was yelling obscenities, acting like a child, and threatening lawsuits. Alina was embarrassed to have ever been married to him. What must people think of their shitshow? She peered up at Aleksander but he wasn’t looking at Mal being dragged away like everyone else. A cat-like smile played on his lips as he brushed shoulders with her.

“What will you name the baby?” He asked.

The question caught her by surprise.

“I don’t know yet. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl. It certainly won’t be _Mal Jr_., that’s for sure.”

They both laughed.

“I think it’s a girl, though,” said Alina, absently. “Just a feeling.”

“Let’s hope she’s smarter than her father.”

Alina stilled and then nodded, realizing he was referring to Mal. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.

Aleksander watched her face flush a little and then smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some ideas for continuing Blue Cross but was too lazy to commit to anything. So this was the result.


	7. you sound cute when you're sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aleksander has the sniffles and Alina helps him get better  
> Rating: G  
> Type: drabble

“I’m _not_ sick,” said Aleksander in a hoarse voice that indicated very much the opposite. 

Alina smiled serenely from her chair, perched like knowing angel. She eyed the scattered stack of papers on his desk, the suspicious piles of balled up tissues in the basket, and the untouched cup of soothing tea Genya had prepared for him hours ago. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes watery, and the top few buttons of his _kefta_ were undone. 

“You sound cute when you’re sick,” she teased. 

He gave her the look he normally reserved for traitors in his dungeon but she ignored him, sliding off the chair and floating out of the room like some ethereal creature, some faery queen of light and song. 

She returned with soft blankets and cushions which she arranged by the lounge in front of the fireplace. Aleksander watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he had the strength left to put up a fight. 

A bowl of hot soup was set on the table by the lounge. Alina poked the fire a few times to fan the heat and then eventually ended up scorching half the logs with her own power when she was unsatisfied. She’d nearly set the place on fire once this way. Aleksander would never admit it to her face, of course, but sometimes she did terrify him. 

When she was done fussing over what he presumed was to be his makeshift sickbed, she rounded on him, pressing her palms face down on his paperwork, threatening to scorch them all with the slightest tremor of her fingers. 

“You. Get in there. _Now_.”

Aleksander made a show of pretending this was all unnecessary. He had so much important work to do, after all. Still, he figured being fussed over by his wife wouldn’t be a terrible way to spend the afternoon. Even if her soup tasted like rotten herring. He’d never tell her that either. 

He sighed dramatically. “If you insist,” he said, getting up from his chair and letting Alina pull off his layers of clothes before shoving him into the soft sheets. She brushed his messy hair back (an old habit) before spooning him mouthfuls of her atrocious soup.  


End file.
